Really Not Your Day
by Nathaniel Cardeu
Summary: Neville's day probably couldn't get any worse. He had detention with Snape, but curiosity got the better of him. He really wishes he had just sat there, quietly...


Gasping for breath, his robes damp but charred and singed in places, blood running from his nose, his left eye starting to blacken and bruise, his right one bloodshot, a lump the size of a dragon egg sprouting from the back of his head, his left shoe missing, Neville Longbottom shakily pushed open the portrait that led to the Gryffindor Common Room. He staggered over the threshold and sank into one of the large chairs near the fire. His hands were trembling and he gripped the armrests to try and stop them.

"Neville! What... what happened?" came a shocked female voice.

The battered young wizard turned to see Hermione, Ron, and Harry, sat on a comfy sofa nearby, poring over an old book. The three friends looked shocked at his appearance and he wasn't surprised. He tried to talk but could only manage a cough which produced a puff of smoke.

"Bloody hell! Mate… where have you been?" asked Ron.

"Last time we saw you, you were going to detention with Snape," said Harry. "What did he _do_ to you?"

Neville slumped back in the chair and closed his eyes. "It wasn't Snape. I think it was something he was brewing…"

* * *

"Longbottom, you never cease to amaze me with your insurmountable talent for stupidity."

Neville lay on the floor of Professor Snape's office, dripping with a strange silvery fluid, staring up at the hook nosed Professor in fear. The batlike man wasn't shouting, Neville thought it would be better if he was. This quiet, repressed fury was so much worse than a screamingly angry Snape would have been.

"The cauldron was on a high shelf… was it not?"

Neville nodded quickly, scattering globules of potion across the room, his eyes wide.

"It would be reasonable to assume, by a person more… astute than you, that there was a reason for it to be placed out of the reach of students?"

If Neville nodded any harder his head was probably going to fall off!

"And that reason would be…?"

"I… I... I… I… I…"

"Yes?" Snape said, drawing the word out and fixing the squirming student with his glare.

"I'msorryProfessorIdidn'tmeantopry!"

Snape held up an impatient hand, cutting the young man off and nearly making him swallow his tongue. "Enough, Longbottom! You have, through your ignorance, stupidity, and inability to do _one thing only_ -Sit. Still.-managed to destroy an extremely delicate piece of work."

Neville cowered as Snape's voice rose. He was finally seeing the anger the man had been repressing, and was realising that this was not better! Not better at all! Angry Snape was bloody terrifying!

"That potion has been brewing for several months now!" Snape bit off each word, spittle flying from his lips. "It was _not finished_ , but it _is_ now RUINED! I have to start... All. Over. Again! I can only hope that the unfinished potion, splattered all over your stupid, cod-fish like face, will do everyone the great service of MAKING YOU VANISH!"

"I'm…"

"GET OUT!"

Slipping and sliding on the tiled floor, Neville scrambled out of Snape's office on all fours. Almost instantly he collided with another student, the girl's wand poking him painfully in the eye and knocking him to the ground in a tangle of arms and legs. The books she had been carrying landed on his face, bashing the back of his head against the floor, stars flashing in front of his eyes.

The memory of Snape's face was still fresh in his eyes and he barely paused, mumbling a rapid "I'm so sorry!" to Pansy Parkinson as she struggled to regain her feet, cursing him, and sprinted away as fast as his legs would carry him. He could feel blood trickle from his nose and he hastily wiped it away, dashing up the stairs and out of the dungeon, finding the nearest staircase and continuing to climb several flights as fast as he could.

When that winding flight ended he staggered across the hallway towards another, heading ever upwards towards the Gryffindor Common Room. He got a brief glimpse of someone familiar in his peripheral vision carrying a large, delicate looking plant, when someone shouted "LOOK OUT!"

Neville looked up in surprise as a large fireball boiled out of a classroom and struck him full in the chest. It split open and flared away, dissipating to either side of him, setting his robes on fire and singeing his face and eyebrows. With a scream of fear he ran towards the nearest door, banging into an ancient balustrade on the way and knocking the decorative gargoyle off, sending it dropping through the void towards the floors below.

He threw himself through the door, robes almost fully ablaze, before realising that he was in a classroom full of 2nd Years. Over the screaming of the students there was a high pitched voice that yelled " _Aguamenti!_ " and a stream of water blasted him onto his backside, dousing the fire and sending him skidding backwards out into the corridor again.

He collided with someone else now, hitting him just below the knees and sending him to the floor. Neville struggled to his feet, automatically reaching out to help the fallen student up, apologising profusely, dripping wet. The boy he pulled up just glared at him.

"Goyle!" Neville gasped, trying to get away but held by the large boy's fist. His head rocked backwards as the punch connected, and he stumbled away. His back struck the railing and he overbalanced, tumbling over the edge and plunging downwards. A detached part of his mind-the part that wasn't screaming in terror-watched as his left shoe flew off of his foot as he spun and vanished into the stairwell. Neville landed on the staircase below and rolled over and over till he reached the bottom.

Bleary eyed and dizzy, the young Gryffindor hauled himself to his feet and looked around. Somehow the staircase had rolled him right out of the Castle and he was stood near the Quidditch pitch. He could see a practice session was in progress, but couldn't see the House colours; but he did see two players coming straight towards him… Fast!

He had time to turn and run when something hit him in the back of the head, hard enough to send him flying again. He lay on the floor, moaning in pain, not knowing what was going on, who he was, or why life seemed to hate him today.

* * *

The three friends sat, stunned into silence as Neville told his tale of woe.

"Bloody hell, mate! You have some rotten luck!" said Ron.

"Tell me about it," said Neville, with a grunt. "I'm going to bed… I really don't feel well."

"You should go and see Madam Pomfrey," Hermione said, sternly. "You might have a concussion."

"Nope," Neville said, "bed, sleep, pretend this didn't happen…"

Hermione opened her mouth, intending on ordering Neville to go and see Poppy, when Harry placed a hand on her shoulder. "I'll keep an eye on him, Hermione, he'll be alright."

"I don't agree, Harry, but I have to admit… he does look done in."

* * *

Neville slept through the rest of the day and half of Sunday too, finally awakening in time for lunch. He felt better, still aching and sore, but didn't think he was going to die any time soon.

His journey down to the Great Hall was cautious and careful, keeping an eye out in all directions; who knows, maybe a centaur would charge in and skewer him where he stood! It seemed a distinct possibility, considering the weirdness of yesterday.

He made it to the Great Hall safely and plopped down next to Harry, and opposite Ron and Hermione. He was so focused on potential dangers that he missed the looks many of the students were giving him.

"Neville!" Harry said, happily.

"You're bloody famous, mate!" declared Ron, around a mouthful of fried egg. "Everyone's been talking about your adventure yesterday!"

"I'm… what?" Neville looked around, seeing most of the students giving him furtive glances and talking to each other behind their hands. Several teachers on the top table were giving him glances too; Snape was glaring at him and Neville swiftly looked back at his plate. "Is everyone really upset about the chaos?"

Harry and Ron laughed and Hermione gave him a small smile. "No, Neville. Turns out that a lot of people had a really good day because of you!"

"Huh?!"

* * *

Pansy Parkinson eyed up the short stretch of corridor that led past Snape's office, beyond it was the Slytherin Common Room. The pile of books she carried weren't heavy or awkward, but they burned her hands and she felt that everyone could see the slip of paper she had stolen from Professor Vector's desk.

 _Damn Draco, making me be the one to steal answers to tomorrow's Arithmancy test! I just know Snape's gonna catch me, I just know it…_

She had just started to walk past the doorway, when it flew open and a soggy and distressed Neville Longbottom came out of it like a rocket. The pair went down in a tangle of arms and legs, Pansy's wand poking him in the eye and her books smacking the dumb kid in the face. _Serves him right!_

He was already up and running, and a hasty "I'm so sorry!" reached her ears.

"Watch it, Longbottom!" she yelled, belatedly. She started to gather her books when she saw Professor Snape stood nearby.

"Parkinson," he said slowly, capturing her eyes for a moment.

"Professor," she said calmly and not in any way was it a squeak, absolutely not! Hurriedly breaking eye contact she gathered her books, noting with fear that the Arithmancy page was sandwiched between the two books at Snape's feet. Before Pansy could react he stooped and plucked them from the floor, eyeing one then turning both over to look at the second; he didn't look between the books, didn't notice the page _right there_ though it was flashing as far as Pansy was concerned.

"You need not be concerned, Parkinson," Snape said, thrusting the two books into her arms, "I am completely familiar with both of those potion books and have no interest in taking them off of you. That _is_ what has you looking like a startled rabbit, isn't it?"

"Yes, Professor," Pansy breathed, trying not to think of anything. Snape's skill as a Legilimens was legendary in the Slytherin common room!

"Enough, away with you."

"Yes, Professor!" Pansy scurried away, thanking all the Gods that she had got away with that one!

* * *

Professor Sprout toddled her way across the hall, a large, delicate specimen in her hands. She was very careful and kept both eyes fixed in as many directions as possible. The plant was a one of a kind thing, an almost unique succulent that could revolutionise the Medi-Witch industry. Her mind was filled with the possibilities as she walked towards the Hospital Wing, excited to show Poppy.

She had a moment to recognise Neville Longbottom, one of her favourite and most promising students, as he sprinted upstairs and start to pass her, when a student yelled "LOOK OUT!" from a nearby room. Pomona didn't have time to move, could only watch in horror as the ball of fire rolled out of the classroom, straight for her and her delicate little miracle!

At that second, Neville Longbottom put himself between her and the fireball! The flames parted on either side of him, setting the poor lad on fire, but he had completely shielded her plant from harm!

 _What a brave boy!_ she thought, though she was concerned that he was now on fire and running around the school…

* * *

The gargoyle broke away from the rail, toppling, plunging through the void. It fell straight down, missing several students by scarily narrow margins.

It plunged faster and faster, gaining velocity, turning to fall upside down, its jagged stone wings now making it look like a missile. A very sharp, deadly one.

With a sickening crunch it smashed into the giant sphere that lay on the ground, shattered the nigh impervious, green and blue striped shell of the Outer Mongolian Death Fruit that Hagrid had had delivered that morning. It split in two.

The half-giant's mouth dropped open in surprise. He had tried everything to open it, from blades, to spells, to tying it between two Thestrals and making them run in opposite directions. Nothing had worked.

He looked at the sundered shell and the vivid purple fruit within. He looked up in confusion at the moving staircases and the few faces that looked down at him. He looked back at the fruit.

Shrugging, he picked up the two halves of the heavy globe and carried them back towards his hut.

"Wish I'd'a thought'a that," he muttered under his breath.

* * *

Natasha couldn't get her wand to work. Everything she tried seemed to fail, or go wrong. Professor McGonagall had been trying to teach her simple conjuration spells but none of them had worked. Maybe she _was_ part Squib, like her Slytherin classmates said.

She was stood in front of everyone, trying to do a simple spell; the Bird Conjuring spell, _Avis_. With a simple word and a precise movement she should have birds flapping around all over the place! But nothing. Her face was flaming red now, feeling the stares of her classmates, hearing the sniggers of the Slytherin…

The door burst inwards at that precise second, and… someone… a student, burst into the room, his robes ablaze and he was shouting in fear!

Without a pause, as her fellow students began to scream, and Minerva McGonagall breathed "Merlin's Beard!", Natasha raised her wand and screamed the first thing that came to mind.

" _Auguamenti!_ "

The magic filled her and a jet of water spurted from her wand, soaking the boy and blasting him backwards from the room.

Everyone stood or sat in stunned silence for a moment before Professor McGonagall patted her on the shoulder and said, "Well done, Miss Youngson… 10 points to Hufflepuff!" before striding from the room in search of the boy.

Her Housemates crowded around her, congratulating her on the spell. Even the Slytherins looked marginally impressed. Natasha breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe she wasn't a Squib after all!

* * *

Colin trembled with fear, his camera held loosely in one hand, the other clutching onto the meaty forearm of the older boy in front of him. He stammered an apology for taking a photo of the boy without permission, desperately hoping to avoid the inevitable beating. He begged, saying that he had only been trying to get a photo of the fireball, and the student on fire, he hadn't meant to catch Goyle in the shot!

Gregory Goyle, ignoring the appeal, drew back his fist, ready to punch Squeaky right in the kisser.

Something crashed into the back of his legs at that moment, tumbling him backwards. Colin, suddenly released, turned tail and fled as fast as his legs would carry him! He couldn't believe his luck!

Goyle sat up, his head aching from connecting with the floor, to stare daggers at Longbottom. The boy in question grabbed his arm, pulling him to his feet and apologising.

"Goyle!" he gulped, when he realised who he had knocked over.

 _Well, well, it's my lucky day,_ thought Goyle, _I get to punch someone after all. Good day this!_

The punch was solid, sending Longbottom stumbling backwards. What he hadn't counted on was knocking him over the bannister!

"Mister Goyle!" Professor McGonagall shouted, "Stand where you are, laddie! I will deal with you in a moment!"

 _Ah well, still got to punch someone…_

* * *

Luna Lovegood stared up in concern at the pair of shoes, their laces tied together, looped over the decorative bunting strung across the corridor. It was strange why people always seemed to take her shoes… maybe they were trying to save her from the creatures that lived in them? They shouldn't have worried, as they were quite harmless.

She drew her wand, considering the choice of spells available to her, when something whizzed out of the shadows, connected with one of her shoes, and spun it up and over the bunting. They dropped to the floor in front of the smiling witch.

"Thank you!" she said to the new shoe lying behind her.

* * *

Draco was straining his eyes, searching for the Snitch. He needed to get it before Nott did, in order to prove he was the better Seeker.

Suddenly his sharp eyes focused on the blur of golden light, reflecting off the tiny ball's surface. In a flash he was after it!

He glanced back, seeing Theo right behind him. Nott was a good flyer, probably as good as Draco, but the blond had the lead, and that was the important thing!

The tiny Snitch whizzed towards the school, towards the entranceway! _It wouldn't go inside, would it!? He can't fly in the school!_

At that moment Draco caught sight of a student stood in the entrance. He was dirty, bedraggled, only wearing one shoe, and appeared to be smoldering slightly. The boy turned to run, seeing Draco and Theo bearing down on him and the blond wizard was forced to pull up to avoid crashing into the wall, Theo stopping next to him.

With a collective wince, they saw the Snitch impact the back of the boy's head and ricochet out again. Straight into Draco's gloved hand.

He laughed, recognising the moaning boy lying on the floor. "Thanks, Longbottom! Your fat head just got me the job as Seeker! Must be my lucky day!"

* * *

Neville sat in the armchair in the common room, glumly looking into the fire. He had been mobbed all day by people trying to touch him, or just be near him. They hoped his strange "luck" would help them out, but nothing further had happened.

It had been an uncomfortable meal for the poor wizard. Madam Sprout had been extremely grateful for what he had done, though he didn't think he had deliberately jumped in front of her… it just kind of… happened. A pretty young Hufflepuff he didn't recognise had shyly walked up to him, whispered "Thank you" then stood there for a second, nervously twisting her fingers, before planting a kiss on his cheek and running away. Her friends at the Hufflepuff table had giggled, the Slytherin's had scoffed, and the Gryffindor's had cheered and ribbed him, while he sat there with his face going bright red. Then Hagrid bruised his shoulder when he patted him and said "Thanks, Longbottom! I'd tried everythin'!" His beard was stained a strange purple colour for some reason. Goyle was clearly reliving the moment he had punched Neville, retelling it to all his Housemates who were finding it hilarious. The only one that wasn't laughing was Pansy; at one point she caught his eye and gave him a grudging nod. He wasn't sure what he had done for her, he only remembered knocking her off of her feet. Whatever her story was, she wasn't telling. The only non-embarrassing highlight of the whole lunch had been pudding; a delicious, spicy and sweet jelly with delicious fruit pieces; it was a vivid purple colour that made him think of Hagrid's beard. Snape had not stopped glaring at him the whole meal though, which had rather soured the experience. After a while, fed up of all the attention, Neville had left the Great Hall and went upstairs.

Hermione came in a short time later and crouched in front of him. "How you feeling, Neville," she asked with a smile.

"Sore. Pissed off. Like I've got the worst luck in the world."

"Well," she said, adopting her lecturing voice, "I spoke to Professor Snape about your… accident. Not sure what you were thinking, poking around Professor Snape's cauldron..." She grimaced slightly before continuing. "He was reticent at first, not wanting to hear your name again so soon… but eventually he said that he had been brewing a dose of Felix Felicis. It's a luck potion… a very powerful one…"

"I've heard of it, yeah… Don't think his one worked on me!"

"Well, yes, and no… The potion wasn't ready when you… when it spilled… So you got covered in something _like_ liquid luck… but just… not quite…"

"So it… what? _Reflected_ luck? I had a shitty day, but everyone else had a great time?"

"Looks like it," she said, with a shrug, as Ron and Harry came back.

Ron grinned. "Really not your day, was it, Neville?" he said and clapped his hand on the young boy's shoulder. There was a splintering sound as the chair gave way and Neville sprawled onto the floor, groaning in pain.

"Damn, sorry Nev!" muttered Ron, stooping to help him up. He stopped, catching sight of something sticking out of the ripped fabric of the chair. He pulled it out and held it up to the light. "Hey, this is a Beatrix Bloxam Chocolate Frog card, it's really rare! She's the last one I need for my collection! Awesome!"

Neville let his head drop back onto the floor with a depressed moan.


End file.
